Hamlet of Tellura, northeast of Kakariko Village

Shaiya straightened, wiping her brow in the summer heat. She leaned wearily against the side of the house, breathing heavily. Since her husband had been away, it had fallen to her to maintain the house, the garden, the livestock…and the children. She heard a high-pitched squeal and smiled fondly at her two sons, who were busy playing in the yard.

Her eldest son was nearly four now. Her youngest had turned a year old that spring. The infant was sitting on a blanket, watching his brother with curiosity, giggling occasionally. The dark-haired boy was preoccupied firing a slingshot at some squirrels in a nearby tree.

Shaiya knelt down and lifted the large bucket of water, having just refilled it at the pump. She carried it carefully inside and into the kitchen, setting it beside the sink. Her chore complete, she hurried outside, wiping her hands on her apron. She stopped when she noticed him doing something peculiar. His slingshot was held limply in his left hand, his face turned upwards. His lips were moving rapidly, pausing for brief moments. As if he was talking to thin air.

"Sweetheart?" she called.

He perked up. "Mama?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. His dark hair fell carelessly in his eyes.

Next to him, the baby clapped his hands together, grinning broadly. Shaiya hurried over to her elder son. "Who are you talking to, darling?"

He grinned, as if he was in on some secret joke. "Big brother," he said simply.

Shaiya's eyes widened in surprise. "Big brother? Who is that?"

The boy laughed. "He tells me stuff. Like how to use this!" he held up the slingshot enthusiastically.

"Where is big brother?" Shaiya asked, playing along, thinking her son had invented an imaginary friend to play with. The village they lived in didn't have many young children his age.

"Right there," he said, as if it was obvious. "Can't mama see him?"

Shaiya shook her head with mock sadness. "No, darling. Why don't you tell mama what big brother looks like?"

The boy seemed put out that his mother was unable to see his friend. "He's really tall," he started, jumping up to try and indicate just how tall. "Like, really tall! And he has silver-white hair, and he's got really, really light blue eyes."

Shaiya laughed. "Is that so?"

The boy gave her an exasperated look; a most peculiar expression for a four-year-old. He didn't think the existence of his imaginary friend was as much of a game as she did. He was about to say something more about big brother when his little brother piped up, giggling excitedly.

"Dad!" the older boy squealed excitedly, bouncing up and down and stretching his tiny hands outwards.

Shaiya's gaze snapped up in time to see a lone figure making his way towards the house. He was coming up the main road, and had nearly reached the little stone bridge that connected the two sides of the river. The village was small, and already their neighbours were peeking out to see who the new arrival was. Shaiya stood, feeling tears leak out of her eyes as she took in the sight of the man.

He wore a long, dusty traveling cloak over his armor. A sword had been strapped to his hip, and he carried a rucksack on his back. His arm was in a sling, and he looked tired, but alive. Shaiya didn't even realize she had begun running to meet him on the path until she collided into his arms. He held her close, stroking his free arm through her golden hair, revelling in her familiar scent. He breathed her in, whispering her name over and over. She clung to him, thanking the gods he was alive and back in her arms.

Stooping down, he lifted her, somewhat awkwardly because of his arm, and carried her back to the yard. He released her as his young son came barrelling into his arms. Naron laughed, lifting the boy under his arms and swinging him above his head like an airplane. The child whooped with excitement as his father set him down to pick up the infant that was pleading for attention. He held the baby, in the crook of his good arm as Shaiya cuddled close to his side. She put one arm around their other boy as he hugged her skirt tightly.

The baby smiled, giggling happily. Naron smiled down at his family. "I'm home now," he said quietly, pressing a kiss to the delicate forehead. "I'm home."

~oOo~

The dark-haired boy lay on his stomach in the long grass. He'd been practicing moving around with stealth. His breathing was quieter than a whisper, and he barely brushed the tall stalks around him as he moved steadily forward. The fields surrounding his home were perfect for this kind of thing. He heard the unmistakeable squawking of a pheasant nearby. His small fist clenched around the worn wooden slingshot; a gift from his father. He couldn't wait to see the look on his dad's face when he brought home dinner.

"To your left a little."

He looked up at his big brother. He was a giant compared to the child; approaching seven feet tall. He knelt in the grass, not even needing to put in an effort to remain unseen. He was invisible to everyone except the boy. He felt better with Big Brother there; safer. At first he'd thought he was a bit weird, with his long, white hair and icy blue eyes. But he'd gotten used to it.

The pheasant shuffled out of its hiding place and into the yard. He crept forward, keeping his cover in the grass. He raised the slingshot, Deku seeds at the ready. The pheasant walked slowly with its back to him, unaware of him. The boy grinned and let the seed fly. His aim was perfect, he was sure. Unfortunately, his prey was startled at the last second by a shout from the house; his mother calling him inside for dinner. The pheasant scurried back into the grass and he growled in frustration, tossing his slingshot to the ground.

Big Brother placed a hand on his shoulder. "You'll get it next time," he reassured him.

He just nodded, putting the toy in his pocket for safekeeping before rushing back into the yard and into the house for his dinner.

Later that night, he was crawling into bed in the room he shared with his infant brother. There was a knock at the door and his dad came in. He hopped out of bed excitedly.

"You should have seen it today, Dad! I almost got a pheasant!"

Naron laughed as he sat down on his son's bed. "I wish I could've seen that, would've been good for a laugh," he teased, ruffling his son's dark hair.

The boy stuck out his tongue and flopped into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. "Big Brother says I'll get 'em next time, though," he said confidently.

Rather than laugh, Naron's face turned serious. "Yes. Your mother told me about him."

"She did?"

Naron sighed, unsure of how to continue. He was sure Shaiya's worries were for naught. But he couldn't be too sure. He looked into his son's eyes. They were deep blue, like hers.

"You always listen to what Big Brother says?" he asked.

"Yup!"

"And he keeps you out of trouble?"

The boy snickered. "He's a goody-goody, Da."

Naron couldn't help but laugh at that. "All right. Well, how about you keep letting Big Brother keep you out of trouble, and I'll take care of your mom, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed, yawning.

"Good lad." Naron bent over to kiss his son's forehead before rising and blowing out the lantern next to his bed. The youngster quickly burrowed into the warmth of the blankets, falling asleep quickly.

Naron stopped next to the crib. The baby was sleeping peacefully. Naron reached down to tuck a stray strand of blonde hair away from his eyes when he felt slim arms wrap around his waist from behind.

He smiled. "You're so quiet," he whispered.

"Mmm," Shaiya murmured, burying her face in his back. "Come to bed."

Naron twisted in her arms, pulling her close. "Can't say no to that," he teased, stroking a hand lightly along her hip.

She smiled at him in the darkness, taking his hand and leading him out of their sons' room. They lay down in their own bed, content just to lie in each other's arms. Shaiya fell asleep within minutes, exhausted from the day's work. Naron found himself listening to her slow breathing, observing the moon outside their open window. It was unusually bright tonight. The light coming in kept him half-awake, and he slept fitfully.

Sometime in the middle of the night, he woke again. Sitting up in bed, he noted a flash of orange in the window. Frowning, he rose carefully from the bed, walking over to investigate. It couldn't be morning already, could it? As he peered out the glass, fear and alarm clutched him.

Tellura was in flames. Fire had overtaken the first cluster of houses in the distance, eating its menacing way up the village's only main street. There were shadows moving in the street already; he narrowed his eyes with a flash of suspicion. Every figure in the road was mounted, and tiny flickers of silver told him they were armed.

Confirming his fears, innocent villagers began to flee into the street, escaping their burning homes. Naron could only watch, helpless and horrified, as the dark riders cut them down without mercy, leaving their bodies in the streets. The leader, identifiable as the one astride the monstrous black stallion, turned his mount's head towards the house across the river: Naron's home.

Reacting from pure instinct, Naron turned, knelt and groped under the bed. Sword in hand, he roused his wife none too gently.

"Naron? What's happening?" Shaiya asked sleepily as her husband pulled her from the bed.

"Get the boys," he urged her. "And leave the house. Now."

"What's happened?" she repeated, all business as she led the way into the other bedroom.

"The village is under attack," he replied quietly as she gently scooped up the infant. He stirred in her arms, but didn't wake up or cry.

The other boy had lifted his head and was rubbing his bleary eyes. "Mama?" he asked, curious.

"Come with me, sweetheart," she told him, striding to him and grasping his small hand.

He frowned in confusion, but didn't say anything, following his parents to the first level of the house. Naron glanced out the kitchen window, cursing softly. He turned to his wife.

"Take the back door," he instructed her, helping her to wrap her shawl around her shoulders as well as the bundle in her arms. He stooped to help her with her shoes, ensuring his young son was also getting his coat and boots on. "Head for the forest, it might not be safe in Kakariko."

"What about you?" she asked, her face giving away her fear for his safety.

He smiled reassuringly. "I'll be right behind you." Leaning close, he placed a tender kiss to her lips. "As soon as you can, ride for the castle."

Naron had just started to usher his family out the door when there was a loud crash from the other room. The intruders were trying to break their front door and enter the house. "GO!" he shouted, pushing Shaiya out the kitchen door.

Hesitating only a second, she grabbed her boy's hand again and tugged him outside. It was a chilly night, and her breath came in white puffs in front of her. Cold stalks already wet with dew whipped across her legs as she went, pulling her children with her.

At last she reached the low-ceilinged stable, and felt in the darkness for the latch. Hands fumbling, she unbolted and opened the heavy door, rushing inside. It was drier here, and warmer; it gave the illusion of being a safe place; but she knew they were coming.

The dark-haired boy waited patiently, holding back his anxiety and curiosity, as his mother saddled their horse. Fear was plain on her face. There were awful shouts and cries coming from the house, making him increasingly nervous. When he asked where his father was, his mother didn't answer. Whenever he was brave enough to look outside, all he saw were shadows and flashes of fire and confusion.

"Come here, sweetheart."

He withdrew from the window, scared for his missing parent. "I'm going to go help Da," he announced, and darted for the outside before his mother could reach him.

"No! Come back!" she cried, giving chase but slowed by the infant in her arms.

Stepping out of the cover of the stable, she began to panic when she could not find her son in the darkness. Her calls for him went unheeded, and Naron had not emerged from the house.

An arrow whizzed by her, striking the wood of the door. She gasped, ducking and covering her baby with her body. She had drawn attention to herself by shouting, and now tried to stay quiet. The strangers could be heard calling to one another, looking for their prey.

Torn between searching for her child and getting herself and the baby away from danger, she crept back into the stable. Mounting the saddled horse, she tied her bundle securely to her chest, shielding it with one arm. She kicked the horse hard; sensing the urgency, the horse charged from the building.

Immediately, a volley of arrows assaulted her. Shaiya shrieked, leaning low over the horse's neck. The mare reared and neighed ferociously, primal fear steering her towards the nearest cover: the forest. As Shaiya fled the village, a stray arrow found its mark, embedding itself deep in her shoulder.

A sharp cry of pain escaped her, but she gripped the reins and the baby tighter, urging her horse into a desperate gallop.

~oOo~

"Da! Where are you!?" his thin voice wavered, on the verge of tears. His father was nowhere to be found, but the horrible sounds could still be heard in the house. He came in through the back door, finding the house seemingly empty.

Sneaking around to the kitchen, he discovered his father where he had left him. The kitchen door had been barricaded, and his father stood rigid, a sword in his big hands. "Da!" he said excitedly.

His father whirled, his eyes showing white all around. "Get back!" he shouted at his son. "Go with your mother!"

Frightened, the boy retreated, hiding around the corner as the kitchen door gave way with a groan, the wooden barricade splintering into matchsticks. Too afraid to look, he covered his eyes, huddling in the hall off the kitchen. He could hear his father shouting as he fought off whoever had broken into their house.

His plan was to run upstairs for his slingshot was dashed when he heard his father let out a shout of pain. There was a loud thump, reminding him of a squirrel falling from his perch, stunned by the slingshot's projectiles. Only a squirrel's small body made barely a sound, and they broke out of their daze quickly.

Whoever had fallen hadn't yet gotten back up. From his limited vantage point around the corner, he could see his father lying on the ground, the front of his shirt splashed with red. His father's arms were lying slack next to his sides, and he seemed very tired, as if they'd been playing a game and he'd collapsed with exhaustion. But usually it was a trick; whenever he went over to see if his dad was okay, he was immediately grabbed and tickled. His dad would laugh and told him that he fell for it yet again.

"Dad?" he whispered, starting to crawl closer, thinking he was playing pretend.

From the corner of his eyes, Naron spotted him. Very slowly, he shook his head, raising his hand ever so slightly. Something in Naron's eyes told the boy to stay hidden.

A cold voice sounded from somewhere he couldn't see. "It's over."

That's when he saw him. A dark giant was standing over his beloved father. His clothes were black, his skin was deeply tanned, even his weapon—the largest sword he had ever seen—was dark in colour. The sight of the stranger made him shrink away in terror; he was dangerous. The man knelt in front of his father, pulling a silver object from his belt.

His father said, low but clear, "Close your eyes."

His parent's voice didn't shake, as his did, but he heard the unknown emotion in it. Trembling, he did as his father had asked, covering his eyes with his palms. There was a low chuckle from the dark man, and then a sickening squelching sound. Naron gasped and then groaned in pain, his teeth grinding together. Something clattered to the kitchen floor, and then heavy, booted footsteps told him the stranger was coming towards him.

He kept his face covered, cowering helplessly in the hall. Several moments passed where he simply sat, the stranger breathing heavily over him. The boy didn't breathe at all. Without warning, the man departed, his footsteps fading until there was no sound at all.

Terrified, the boy lifted his hands away. The hallway was dark and empty. The entire house had gone quiet, as if it held its breath as he did. There was a cough and a sputter from the kitchen; he scrambled into the room to his father's side.

Naron laid slumped against the wall, his shirt more red than white. His large hand covered a spot on his chest, shielding the sight of the fatal wound. His eyes were glassy, but they focused intently on his son's face.

He climbed into his father's lap, looking up earnestly into the familiar, loving face. "Dad?" he said again, very worried that he wasn't really playing.

A shaking hand rose and stroked the dark hair gently. He rasped, squeezing his son's shoulder faintly, "My…son." The hand pulled the small dark head close.

Despite the blood covering his father's chest, he laid his head on his shoulder, huddling close to him. His father drew in his next breath sharply; his ribs shook and jolted the child. But the exhalation didn't come; it was merely a release of air. The hand stroking the boy's hair relaxed and fell away. When he looked up, his father's eyes were closed. A sob finally escaped his small body as he buried his face in the limp shoulder.

His hero was gone now, and he was alone.